


Steam and Sighs

by DLSGhostface



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLSGhostface/pseuds/DLSGhostface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation (with permission) of "Suds and Ichor". Shameless porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steam and Sighs

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Suds and Ichor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038357) by [JiaRoyale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiaRoyale/pseuds/JiaRoyale). 



> _Cas began to unbutton his dress shirt and loosened his tie further. “You know….Sam did say he would be out for a while.” Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do people regularly have sex in the shower? Is it fun?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _A predatory smile spread across Dean’s face. “Well…don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it, right? First time for everything.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He slammed the bathroom door shut._

Dean had barely turned around before being bodily shoved against the door, Cas’s mouth furiously on his own. It brought a smile to Dean’s lips, which in turn made Cas growl irritably, his hands seeking Dean’s wrists and slamming them above their heads. It was the only time Cas moved with force, with passion, and downright aggressiveness, and it amused Dean. Perhaps amused wasn’t quite the right word, but he did enjoy the demanding angel with the same humored pride usually reserved for cute things learning new tricks. 

_Man_ , he corrected himself, returning the kiss, _not angel._ And as Cas relented, softening as he always did, his hands sliding over Dean’s body like he _needed_ to memorize every muscle, like it would be lost to him, Dean thanked every higher power he could think of for this human man. Who was touch starved and who needed him and who desired him and who wouldn’t leave him. Who handled hormones like he handled hamburgers, who was both overwhelmed with emotions and at the same time savored every one. Softly, gently, Dean slowed Cas’s mouth. His fingers lightly flicked the last of his shirt buttons open, and Cas pressed his body forward, seeking contact with Dean’s skin. And Dean indulged him, wrapping his arms tightly around the shorter man’s body, savoring just how warm he was in the drafty hotel bathroom. His finger’s sought Cas’s tangled hair, and found dried ichor. _Ewwww_ , he mentally repeated, carefully detangling himself. “Cas?” he coaxed. The blue eyes stared up at him, as though wondering what Dean’s lips were doing over _there_ , making strange noises, instead of over _here_ , with eager noises. “Cas. Shower. Remember?” The pinched forehead broke Dean’s heart with sweetness. Cas was just so busy being _adorable_ and confused and pitiful and such a child still. “C’mon, dude,” he murmured, “Cleanliness is next to godliness, don’t you know that?” 

The frown strengthened. “I’ve never heard that. Which prophecy is that from?” 

Dean bit back bile, cursing himself for bringing up Heaven inadvertently. “Never mind. It’s just a stupid saying. But I don’t know if this stuff is going to come out if it dries. I don’t want to shave myself bald just to get rid of it.” 

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Shave?” his voice was low with nerves. “You mean…a haircut?” Dean ran his hand through his hair with a sigh, and groaned when it came away covered in the goop. Worrying about the nasty monster goo and Cas’s first hair cut kind of ruined the mood. 

“Shower,” he growled, “Now.” 

Cas slid his pants down, watchfully keeping his gaze on Dean. Dean tried to keep his grumbling internal as he kicked his own pants off and rolled his briefs down. It was really hard to keep the mindset when _he_ was watching you like a kid mimicking an adult: and that’s what the amusement always came down to—those adorable steps he made, becoming more and more human every day. It scared Dean. He fell hard for the angel and harder for the human, but the changes were happening faster. 

Plus, he didn’t want a pet, or another kid brother. He had enough kid brothers. 

He wanted his lover. 

Bared, Cas turned the tub’s faucet and let the water run over his hand. A look of wonder crossed his face briefly as he enjoyed the sensation of cold water warming to a steamy heat before he pulled the shower tab. He stepped in, leaned his head back as the hot water sprayed across his throat, his skin tingeing pink in only moments. Dean resisted turning the heat down: Cas was happy, and he needed to know what his limits were. He wouldn’t let himself get burned. The double entendre rang in his ears. 

The water glistened over his muscles, and Dean swallowed hard, forced himself to breath. Cas reached for his preferred bar soap and lathered up, ignoring the washcloths. And Dean could have sworn, he was being deliberately seductive. He glanced at Dean with half-lidded eyes for only half a second before flexing the next group of muscles. He bent over, scrubbing at his shins. Dean set his jaw, scolding himself for his delay, and stepped into the shower, tugging the curtain in place. He ran one hand over Cas’s bent back. “Pass me the soap.” Cas reached for Dean’s bodywash. “No. Your soap.” Cas’s face was studiously blank as he passed the bar of soap. The muscles rippled under Dean’s skilled hands, and a relaxed sigh escaped Cas’s lips. He worked his way lower, rubbing the bar over either cheek before sliding it between the two. Cas gasped, then firmly shut his mouth as though to dare Dean to do it again. “Shampoo.” The bottle was passed. “On your knees.” 

“Why?” 

“I want to wash your hair.” 

Slowly, Cas turned to face Dean and got to his knees. Dean poured a liberal amount directly into Cas’s hair, biting his inner lip just a little as the white shampoo dripped over his hair. He dug his fingers in, working the ichor out, massaging his scalp. “Dean,” he whispered happily, savoring just _touch_ and _feelings_. He said it was different, heightened, as a human, and Dean obliged. 

“Yes, Cas?” he murmured back. 

In response, Cas took Dean, at half-mast already, into his mouth. A sharp breath was the only reaction he would allow, continuing to run his fingers through Cas’s hair. Cas took more of him, and as Dean scratched closer to his neck, Cas murmured in appreciation and moved faster, his hands gripping Dean’s thighs. 

Dean’s eyes fluttered close and his head fell back as he worked his hands over Cas’s ears, scrubbing vigorously and being rewarded succulently. He could feel his breathing losing control, when suddenly one thigh was missing a friendly, groping hand. He glanced down to see Cas stroking himself in time with his mouth. “Hey, now!” Dean protested. Cas ignored him. “Cas—“ No response. He lightly pushed the arm back with the shampoo bottle. Cas dropped his hand, but looked up mournfully around his mouthful. “No.” He sat back on his heels, pouting. “You know the rules.” The small pout didn’t leave his face, but Cas got to his feet and peeked around the curtain, rummaging in the shower bag. When he turned back to Dean, a small bottle of lube was in his palms. Dean took a deep, steadying breath before turning around, bracing his hands against the shower walls, digging his feet into the grips on the shower floor. He heard the bottle flick open and couldn’t help but grimace at the sound. It flicked closed and a moment later his bum was being manhandled, fingers seeking between the cheeks. He hissed. “Damn, that’s cold, Cas!” 

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. 

He sounded frustrated. 

But the rules were the rules for a reason. 

One finger was not a problem. The second took a moment to adjust to. But it was worth it when Cas hit _it_ and sounds he could only describe as a cross between a mew and a warble tore from his throat before he bit down on his lip. He tried not to pant, and failed, as Cas worked his fingers. 

“Now, Dean?” his whisper pleaded. 

Dean swallowed. “Let’s get out of the shower. We’re going to fall.” The fingers slipped away, and they left both a sense of release of tension and emptiness. Dean let out a small sigh of relief before standing up straight and smiling his brightest smile at Cas, who glowered back at him. Dean almost laughed: Cas’s wet hair fell into his eyes, and the small frown was belied by the tense, gorgeous muscles, twitching in anticipation. Dean stepped onto the damp bathmat, spreading his legs comfortably and leaning against the wall. Cas was immediately on his back, his thighs pressed tight against Dean’s butt, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist and the other hand on Dean’s member, stroking. 

“Please, Dean?” It was almost a whine. 

_One last deep breath_. “Yes, Cas.” 

The flick of the cap, a rush of cold air as Cas leaned back, and then the warmth, the inquisitive fingers for a moment, and then—

\--the stretch and _burn_ and the brush against that one hot spot and Cas’s lips on his neck and Cas’s hand working him---

“Go ahead,” he breathed to his angel, always _his angel_ , and Cas’s hips rocked and it was pure heaven, rolling in him, against him, around him and the whispers of his name between the kisses and the little love bites and both rushing, only moments in, only moments to go, Cas because he couldn’t help it and Dean because he wanted nothing more than _this moment_ , to cum in _his_ hand and he bore down and in turn Cas’s grip tightened and the rhythm sped up and he heard the tell-tale gasp and he hissed “Now, Cas, _now_ ” and he spasmed in Cas’s hand as he could feel the growled pant that meant Cas spent in him and a breath that only barely held the word “Dean.” 

They leaned like that, Cas’s collapsed body hanging with both arms wrapped up under Dean’s arms, Dean propped on one arm against the wall, one hand lightly tracing Cas’s nimble fingers. “I love you,” one gruff voice murmured, and “I love you, too,” the other gruff voice replied, and it didn’t matter who said it first. 

Cas nuzzled his head between Dean’s shoulder blades. “I feel like a koala.” 

Dean shook with his repressed laughter. “Your legs killing you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Consider it today’s training.” 

“Can we train tomorrow?” 

He chuckled. “Sure, Cas. Any time you want. Except the Superbowl.” Silence stretched. “And the next Star Trek movie---I need my strength for that.” Against his back, the tired angelic man laughed lightly. 

“Hey. I get that reference.” 

“Do you get that one?”

“What one?” 

“Never mind. We’re watching Avengers again.” 

“’Kay,” he mumbled sleepily. 

“How about you clean up, and go take a nap?” 

“What are you going to do?”

“I still have monster goo in my hair.” 

Neither moved. 

“Hey Dean?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can we take a bath?”

“Sure Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written with my friend Jia's permission. She was receiving requests for more graphic content than she was comfortable with, and I offered to go ahead and do fanservice. She gave her blessing as long as I kept it in her writing style. I hope I managed that. This was the first I completed of several.


End file.
